


Gula

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: Scorpius Malfoy Presents the Seven Deadly Sins [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gluttony, Gula, M/M, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have long come to accept the fact that you will never satisfy your need for him, no matter how much he gives of himself to you. He is your weakness and your proclivity and no matter where this life takes you, you know that you can sustain on the knowledge that you will always carry one another’s soul and that no matter what; he will always come back to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gula

**Author's Note:**

> Annnd, that's all folks! Thank you for taking this journey with me and Scorpius through his very own version of The Seven Deadly Sins. This couldn't have been possible without the support of my friend, writing partner and muse of all things, Unkissed. If you haven't checked out their work, DO IT NOW!!
> 
> For Albus, our favorite boy in the band.

— _The more one has, the more one would have._

 

It is beneath the cover of darkness when he comes to you. Separation has been pure torture, but the reunions are so rapturous that they make almost everything worth it. When he lets himself in and leans against the closed door you gaze up at him from where you sit on the couch, as if awaiting his untimely arrival. 

 

He wears fame and the touch of a million screaming fans like his armor and you can see it hanging on him like a sweet wrapper that you itch to tear away like a holiday package.  When you crook a finger and beckon him closer, the corner of his mouth twitches because he knows that look in your eyes all too well.

  
He obliges you, but not without making a show of it because some part of him will always be on a stage. You follow him with eyes that glean in the moonlight like a wolf watching its prey, and when he sinks down to his knees in front of you like he is ready to worship at your alter, you smirk darkly because you are about as far from an idol fit for worship as they come.

 

There are no words as you lean forward and curl your fingers into the hem of the t-shirt he wore. You tug it up and over his head and toss it aside, fingertips already smoothing over his sweat-stained skin in the most reverent of ghostly touches. His eyes shutter softly under your command and you revel with empowerment because you know there is no one else in the world that can do to him what you can.

 

When you divest him of his jeans you do it slowly because you can smell the desperation on him and you think he wears torture _so_ prettily. His head rolls to the side and the sweetest gasp escapes past his parted lips that it sets every nerve you possess aflame. You will never grow tired of him or these moments and despite everything that has transpired between you, you have come to enjoy these reunions most of all.

 

You guide him back and back until he is spread out against the rug before you like a waxen angel for your taking and he goes easily because he is powerless to deny you. He’s watching you from behind blown out eyes as you lower yourself off the sofa to the space between his parted knees. Your fingertips trace over the tops of his thighs and when you lean over, your tongue carves wet lines across his bare skin that make him whimper impatiently. You take time in your plight, savoring every inch of him like the finest delicacy and when you finally reward him by taking his desperate need in the palm of your hand, the soft sigh he emits pulls a throaty chuckle out of you.

 

“I could eat you alive.” Your words are hissed breathily against the cock in your hand and when he twitches, you can only smirk smugly in response. Your tongue traces his taught line from base to tip and the saltiness on his skin makes you shudder inwardly. His fingers work overtime, curling and uncurling as you close your mouth over the head and take him into your mouth and his self-control is all but tossed out the proverbial window.

 

It’s been a long time since your first blowjob and you’ve had years of practice. You know intimately what excites him and drives him to the brink of madness and every second that hangs in the air is like a fleeting recording of your insatiable hunger for one another. Your mouth moves over his length with expert precision and it is not very long at all before he is relegated to a teeming mass of pleading desperation beneath you.  You love him so desperately, so totally, and it is these moments that you wonder if he truly realizes just how much.

 

When he comes his fingers are fisting your hair painfully and the way he pants out your name, co-mingled with a string of sibilant expletives, only makes you want him more. You drink him in like he is the sweetest nectar and when there is nothing left but breathless murmurs and heaving chests, still you want more. Always more.

 

You lean over him and drop a lingering kiss to his mouth and the way his tongue traces over your lips makes you smile because maybe he is just as devilish as you are after all.  He looks like absolution hovering beneath you and you can hardly stand to gaze down upon him without squinting because his brightness burns your eyes.  He whispers some breathy form of _I love you_ and you shiver and kiss him hard because you aren’t finished with him yet.

 

 

Time means nothing to you right now and you work him apart slowly, teasing at first until he is ready to blossom for you all over again. Somewhere inside you think that maybe this time it will be enough, but it will never be enough. You will never satiate that hunger for him that festers inside of you because it cannot be contained or pacified and it only seems to grow with each passing day.

 

When you pull him closer and rest his ankle on your shoulder he looks wild and free and the anticipation of the moment hangs in the air like a smothering shroud. Sometimes you wish you could climb inside of him and build a home around his heart because you are selfish enough to want it all for yourself. It takes mere moments to press yourself inside of his accepting and pliant body and when you do, the sweetest groan escapes you and you feel like you are as close to home as you will ever get.

 

He owns your soul; he captivates you and compels you like nothing else in this world will ever be able to and it drives you to near desperation half the time and you hope that he will never tire of the way that you are because you don’t think that you can live without him.

  
Every penetrating thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body and you find yourself gripping his leg tighter than you probably should. You want to tell him how he makes you feel but you find the words dried on your lips before they escape and so you resolve to show him instead, and you do; with every angled movement and throaty whimper. 

 

He’s watching you with glazed eyes and a knowing smile and you hold his gaze as you deposit a reverent kiss to his inner thigh. Your movements are concentrated and precise because you hunger for his pleasure as much as you do your own and every time he arches up towards you it squeezes firmly on your insides because he is so beautiful and so perfect and he is just for you.

 

Your fingers wrap lovingly around the awakened erection between you and you stroke him languidly to match your own movements. Time has ceased to tick on as you work him apart all over again and this time when he comes you come with him and you leave a little bit of yourself behind in a vain attempt to mark every inch of him as your own even though you already know who he belongs to. 

 

Your vision is spotted and your breath is lost and although you’ve only just had him, you still feel it; the itch just below the surface of your skin that cannot be scratched. You would fuck him endlessly if you could, but you settle for having him in a myriad of other ways in the interim moments instead.

 

When you step into the shower together you take your time there too, because every moment you have him to yourself is something to be savored. You wash away the traces of sin and the outside world from his skin and you kiss him clean and later, perhaps after dinner, you will soil him up all over again because you cannot help yourself.

 

You have long come to accept the fact that you will never satisfy your need for him, no matter how much he gives of himself to you. He is your weakness and your proclivity and no matter where this life takes you, you know that you can sustain on the knowledge that you will always carry one another’s soul and that no matter what; he will always come back to you.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning of this work is actually a proverb, not sure of the origin. Borrowed graciously all the same.


End file.
